The girl didn't resist when Rayden pulled her back from the edge.
Her body trembled, not only from the chill of the night air, but from something much deeper—something broken. She didn't scream. Didn't struggle. She just stood there, hollow, as if her soul had left moments ago.
Rayden gripped her wrist firmly, eyes sharp as ever.
"I don't like drama in public places," he said coolly. "Sit."
The girl looked up at him—confused, afraid, embarrassed. She was younger, fragile in a way that made Rayden feel something he hadn't in a long time. Pity? No. Something colder. Responsibility.
Before her stood a sharply dressed man in a tailored coat, his scent expensive, his presence commanding. He was far too well-composed to be here. Far too much of a stranger to care.
"I don't need help," the girl mumbled, her voice barely audible.
Rayden raised a brow. "Unfortunately, you've already got it."
They sat on a concrete bench overlooking the quiet Veldarra River. City lights shimmered in the water's reflection, casting a fractured glow that neither of them really noticed.
Rayden glanced sideways.
The girl—whoever she was—looked like she hadn't slept in days. Eyes swollen, skin pale, hair unbrushed. She was a mess. But there was something in her face that didn't scream defeat.
"Name?" he asked.
She didn't answer.
"Not for the police," he added, flat. "Just to know."
"…Anne," she said eventually.
"Rayden."
Silence again.
"Where do you live?"
Anne shook her head quickly. "I… don't have a place anymore."
Rayden stared at her, tone even as ever. "Your life's not my concern. But I'm not about to leave a girl wandering the streets after nearly throwing herself off a bridge."
He paused.
"I have a spare apartment. You can stay there. For now."
Anne looked at him like he'd grown two heads. "You want to take me home? Pervert," she muttered under her breath.
Rayden almost smiled. Almost. "I'm not a pervert."
"Then why?" she shot back.
He stood, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve. "Because I hate watching people die."
__
Fifteen minutes later, a sleek black car pulled up to a high-end but modest apartment building. Clean. Quiet. Unassuming.
Rayden opened the door, switched on the lights, and placed a small box on the kitchen table.
"Food. Water. Electricity's on. Don't rearrange the furniture."
Anne stood frozen at the doorway, unsure whether to run or collapse.
"Why… are you helping me?" she finally asked.
Rayden exhaled shortly. "Not important."
"I can't pay you back."
"I didn't ask."
Their eyes met.
Anne lowered hers and murmured, "Thank you."
Rayden turned to leave. Just before closing the door, he looked back.
"If you still want to jump… wait until I'm gone."
The door shut softly. But to Anne, it sounded like a thin wall placed between her and the world—for tonight, at least.
__
The apartment was too clean. Too quiet. Too much like someone else's life.
Anne stood in the center like a refugee dropped into foreign land. The large window in the corner revealed the gray, voiceless skyline of Veldarra. She didn't touch the curtains. Let the half-light fall like uncertain fog across the floor.
Her bag lay by the door, untouched. All it contained were scraps of the life she'd left behind.
On the dining table, a small piece of paper.
Blue ink. Sharp handwriting. Commanding.
"This place is temporary. Use it.
Food's in the cupboard.
Don't die."
No name. No signature. Just Rayden's voice echoing between the lines.
Anne didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Maybe both. Maybe neither.
Maybe there was nothing left but to stand there and feel… empty.
The bathroom filled with steam. Hot water sprayed from the shower like a hiss of warning.
Anne tested it with her fingers. Too hot. She jerked back. Redness bloomed across her skin like fire meeting ice.
She didn't cry.
She just slid down the wall, letting the warmth soak into her bones. The air felt thick, like a sealed cabin. If she breathed too hard, she might break apart.
__
The kitchen was just as unfamiliar.
Two-burner gas stove. A single pack of instant noodles on the shelf. A water kettle that looked untouched.
She picked up the noodles with shaking hands. Unwrapped it slowly, like it might explode with memories she didn't want.
The lighter refused to spark.
Once. Twice. Five. Six.
Finally—click. Flame.
It felt like winning a war with a ghost.
She smiled. Barely. A smile closer to grief than gratitude.
The noodles were too salty, but she finished every bite.
Night arrived like a heavy curtain falling over the world.
Anne sat cross-legged on the bed, lights off. Darkness cradled her more gently than the glow of bulbs ever could.
She stared at the door, waiting for someone. Anyone. Someone who would walk in and say, You're not alone.
But no one came.
Her phone had died last night. She didn't know the day. The date. No job. No messages. No family looking for her.
The world she came from had already forgotten her.
Rayden may have pulled her back from the bridge, but no one could pull her out of the pit she now lived in.
She lay down, hugged a thin pillow like a child trying to hide from monsters.
Tears slid silently across her face. Quiet. But real.
She didn't know where she'd go next.
Didn't know what came after this.
But tonight, she was alive.
And maybe… for now, that was enough.